séyevna looked upon Lopukhóf, after dreaming of Lopukhóf as a monopolist.
Yesterday a natural thought was always in Pólozof's mind, "I am older than you, and more experienced. Yes, there is no one in the world smarter than I am; and as for you, milk-sucker and bubby, so much the less reason have I to listen to you, since I, with my own reason, have made four millions" (although in reality they were only two, and not four). "You try to make two millions, and then talk." But now he thought, "What a bear he is! how he routed me! He knows how to break one in." And the more he spoke with Kirsánof, the more lively arose before him, in addition to the quality of "bear," another picture—an old and forgotten recollection of his life as a hussar: his riding-master,[1] Zakhártchenko, was sitting on his horse, "Gromoboï" (at that time Zhukóvsky's[2] ballads were fashionable among young ladies, and therefore to a certain extent among young cavaliers, both in the army and civil life), and "Gromoboï" was prancing under Zakhártchenko, only "Gromoboï's" lips were covered with blood. Pólozof was somewhat horrified, as he heard Kirsánof's answer to his first question.
"Would you really have given her a fatal dose?"
"Certainly I should," replied Kirsánof, with absolute sang-froid.
"What a murderer! He talks like a cook about a dead chicken! And you would have courage for it?"
"Of course I should. What a clout I should be if I hadn't!"
"You are a terrible man!" said Pólozof again.
"It shows that you have never seen any terrible men." said Kirsánof, with an indulgent smile, thinking to himself, "I should like to show you Rakhmétof."
"But how did you manage all those doctors?"
"As though it were hard to manage such men!" said Kirsánof, with a slight grimace.
Pólozof recollected Zakhártchenko, who said to the second-captain, Volutnof: "Did you bring me this lop-eared beast for me to ride on, your eminence? I am ashamed to mount him."
